


Milestones

by TheTimelessChild0



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Embarrassment, Interfering TARDIS, Urination, bladdershy ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25067155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: There are baby steps, and then there are900-year-old aliensteps...
Kudos: 5
Collections: Interesting Living Arrangemens





	Milestones

It had become a puzzling trend recently. Ever since the TARDIS had locked the doors to make the Doctor use the toilet first, he’d entered into a regimen of going even before that. 

He wasn’t subtle about it, but he _was_ secretive. It would always be the same, either right after breakfast, after he’d gotten dressed, or after Martha had looked up something in the library. She would find him racing towards another location down the hall, and look just _slightly_ more confident and light in his gait upon his return. 

It wasn’t rocket science to guess where he was going. 

Of course, there was a smoother way of doing it, but which involved a great deal more...ehm... _communication_. 

The TARDIS knew simply hiding the bathroom until Martha sees him distressed, hoping she’ll force the truth out of him; rather than begging the TARDIS to give in, and let the Doctor have his privacy, was a long shot. She was his friend first, and a doctor second. 

Fortunately, a solution that involved both of these traits, appeared.

* * *

The Doctor woke up, smiling at the clock. He’d woken up early, a _rare_ occurrence, even for a Time Lord such as him. 

He stretched, patting his bladder. It wasn’t nearly as full as humans’ tended to be in the morning, so he invited it to calm down for the moment. 

Naturally, once he’d gotten dressed and sorted his hair, from one frizzy hairstyle to another...he strode calmly across the hall to the bathroom. 

He stepped in to find Martha drying her hair. 

  
“Oh, sorry, thought it was free,” he apologised, reaching for the door handle.

“Another one of her hijinks, I imagine. Nice try, TARDIS. Nothing awkward to see here,” she laughed dismissively. 

The Doctor tried to leave the room, but the door wouldn’t budge. He was locked in. 

“You’re free to _stay_ , I’m just gonna brush my teeth next,” Martha assured him. 

“No thanks...I can’t get the door open,” the Doctor explained. 

She tried it herself. Nothing. 

“So _that’s_ the game she’s playing...well, that’s certainly a change of pace,” she smirked. If her hunch was correct, there was a _very good_ reason for the two of them to share time this morning. 

The Doctor frowned, confused. Martha smiled widely at him. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the door will open sooner or later,” 

“I’d prefer sooner,” he grumbled, wiggling his slippers. 

Martha raised an eyebrow, but didn’t make a big deal of it. _Yet_. Her suspicions were confirmed. 

The Doctor proceeded to gel his hair. If the TARDIS wanted them to bond more intimately than at breakfast, so be it. He showered at night, she wouldn’t see anything she shouldn’t. After all, the door would open before _then_...right?

He quickly distracted himself by flattening his sideburns. Unfortunately, that included water. Running the tap required some stepping in place. 

Despite knowing full well how much the topic embarrassed her alien friend, Martha couldn’t help but feel privileged, witnessing an aspect the Doctor revealed to her, only within the bare minimum. And _stretched_ to the maximum of his bladder’s limit...

When she was finished with brushing her teeth, she spotted the Doctor crossing his legs. Subtly, rather than secretly this time. Most of his right leg was where it was usually, except for the foot and a few centimetres above it, which were wrapped around the left.

Usually, Martha would find out about the Doctor’s need when travelling, due to his exaggerated discomfort after having waited for her to deal with it herself. He was a very polite person at the best of times, but never squeamish. _Squirmy_ , yes.

Alas, this time, she would have to do what she needed to do, already knowing what it would do to him. Even worse, the man in question probably still deluded himself with the idea that she _wasn’t_ aware. So he’d be just as shy as always, poor thing. 

Well, both things had to happen…

“Right, you can go behind the curtain or in the corner with your back turned, either way, I need to use this,” she stated bluntly, pointing at the toilet. 

The Doctor hopped in the tub with stiff legs. 

In any other environment, she would’ve ended the charade here, and made him go before her, but as the door was designed to open on _his_...surrender, she decided not to delay it for herself. It was a better receptacle than she had outside the ship. 

Behind the curtain, the Doctor was whistling, with his collar wrapped around his ears. This was to allow him to hold with both hands. The echoing material of the tub restricted his movement, but he did manage to bounce his knees.

* * *

Martha wouldn’t have noticed, if it hadn’t been for how audibly, and more to the point, _suddenly_ , she flushed and stood up. The Doctor immediately restored his suit to a more natural position, and crossed his legs, wincing. 

The TARDIS could’ve made the noise of the flush sound noisier to the Doctor than Martha, ensuring she heard the wince. But it was not necessary, as he timed it wrong. The flush was over when he made the noise.

She shook her head at his persistence. 

She approached the sink, beckoning the Doctor out. 

“Got what you wanted, a free _toilet_...your turn,” Martha invited. 

“Hmm? Oh, no, I just came in to brush my teeth. Figured I’d sort my hair first, the tips would be full of toothpaste otherwise,” he lied, grabbing his toothbrush. 

“Sure that should be your highest priority right now?” she asked him, hinting. 

The Doctor stopped his “enthusiastic” wiggling, looking down anxiously. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to, Dr Jones,” he said casually, scrubbing his wisdom teeth. 

Martha made note of the _full set_ , as described in one of the medical almanacks. Supposedly it was a trait inherited from the Shobogans who had a rougher diet. But the origin of the Time Lords and their connection to the Shobogans were vague. 

“Well, then...guess we’re stuck here for a while,” the Doctor remarked, leaning on the wall, curling his toes. 

“That’s up to you,” she commented. 

“What?” he was honestly oblivious. 

“Come on, I know your tells, don’t forget. Never mind the Scale, it doesn’t matter. What matters is your numbers are climbing for every second you stall,” Martha crossed her arms. 

The Doctor went red in the face, looking away. 

“I’m not stalling, I’m...scoping out the severity,” he lied.

“Well, I can help with that. It’s severe _enough_ , just go. I did, it’s not that complicated,” she encouraged. “You’ve done it before. You can’t say you’re not used to this,” 

“This _toilet_ yes... _alone_ ,” the Doctor muttered.

“Just imagine the shower curtain is a door. You’ve found me waiting outside of it before, as well,” Martha pointed out. “That wasn’t awkward. Not after a bit,”

“This is what _she_ wanted, isn’t it? Us, _me_ in that state,” he lamented. 

“Yep. So go on, you can have all the privacy you need before breakfast after,” she assured him, smiling gently. 

“Fine, go behind the curtain,” he waved her off, defeatedly. 

As soon as she was in position, the curtain fell down. 

“Right. That _would_ be too easy…” the Doctor huffed, lifting the seat and unzipping. 

Martha couldn’t help giving the ship a thumbs up for her elaborate scheme. 

A small blessing for the Doctor was that he didn’t need to imagine this particular toilet in front of him for comfort. He was already _using it..._

And fortunately, the presence of Martha didn’t bother him as much as he thought. She was as far away as usual, except this time it was a familiar environment. It was automatic. 

He could get himself to relax, present company be damned.

_Point taken_ , he hummed telepathically to the TARDIS. 

* * *

The Doctor didn’t get _much_ more open about it, but still considerably so. She received eye contact with him, after he stepped out of the bathroom in the morning, as if he didn’t mind her proximity in that circumstance anymore. Which he didn’t, actually…

He also got more okay calmly stepping out of the room during breakfast, when necessary. Sure, he came up with some excuse, but it was clear that he didn’t expect her to believe it. They were getting vaguer every week.

And one extraordinary, utmost remarkable, miracle happened during one of their travels. It was textbook prison cell, only one toilet, out in the open, totally cut and dry. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes and jumped in place once. 

“Okay, might as well get it over with, we’re gonna be here a while. Martha, would you mind…” he gestured. 

Martha was speechless, but did as requested. 

He did the same for her, not even blushing once at what just happened for _him_.

The transition back to conversation was seamless, and instantaneous. 

_Next step: getting rid of the Scale_. 

Martha felt like she was dreaming. And the Doctor had never felt more awake.

**THE** **END.**


End file.
